


gardens and still lifes

by littlehobbitguy



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Birthday, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Painting, Post-Quest, Surprises, froggy pippin was supposed to make an appearance but he'll be in the sequel, i cried while i wrote this, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:23:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29593449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlehobbitguy/pseuds/littlehobbitguy
Summary: Sam admired the watercolor landscape Frodo had painted in the garden back in the spring. It was mounted by a wooden frame near the entrance to Bag End, which Sam had hung himself.“I want this to be the absolute first thing our guests see when they come inside,” Sam recalled himself saying to Frodo. “It’s too beautiful to be left in a stack in the office, dear. If it were up to me, none of those drawings would be stuck in those stacks. They would fill every corner, every wall, so everyone could see them.”An idea struck Sam. He considered it for a brief second before shaking his head in dismay. How could he possibly learn to paint? And even if he did, how could he possibly match the beauty of the creations of his beloved?
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	gardens and still lifes

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is literally the first fic i have ever written in my life, pls go easy on me!! i hope you enjoy it, my twitter is @littlehobbitguy xoxo

A beam of light shone in through the window, casting a ray of sun onto the sleeping faces of two hobbits. Sam awoke first, and watched with tenderness as his Frodo continued to peacefully rest. Sam nudged himself closer to Frodo’s face, and tucked a strand of his raven hair behind his ears. Frodo began to stir, and moved tighter into Sam’s embrace.

“What is it, my dear Sam…” he murmured. Sam held him close enough to hear his heartbeat. He deeply treasured moments like these, the ones that used to only live in his dreams as he watched Frodo from afar. Frodo was once the first thought in Sam’s head each morning, now he is the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes.

“Nothin’, dear,” whispered Sam. Frodo opened his eyes and a sweet smile spread across Sam’s face as he met his gaze. “It’s still very early, you might as well go back to sleep.”

He needn’t tell Frodo twice. Frodo instantly appeared to be back at rest, his face now warmly in Sam’s chest as his own slowly lifted up and down. Sam thought about the day that lie ahead, and decided he should get up early to let Frodo relax more. He began to remove his blankets, but Frodo tugged on his nightshirt, pulling him back down.

“Please don’t go…” Frodo said softly, his eyes still closed. Sam’s heart stopped and he began to melt. Those words carried such an intense weight, and Sam wondered what Frodo meant. Did he mean that he didn’t want him to leave the bed, that he simply wanted to keep his warmth for a few more hours? Or was this a murmur of a terrible fear that they may lose each other again, the result of a bad dream?

Sam grabbed the hand of his former master and now closest companion. He placed his other hand on Frodo’s cheek and caressed it.

“I’m not goin’ nowhere, dear.” He placed a soft kiss on the back of Frodo’s hand. “Nowhere. I promise.” Frodo wrapped himself around Sam and swiftly fell asleep, with a faint grin on his flushed pale face. Sam fell asleep too, running his calloused hands through the hair he loved so much.

* * *

After a long morning of rest and a full breakfast, the two hobbits started their day. They did not have much responsibility these days, other than tending to Bag End and ensuring evil forces never tarnished their beloved Shire ever again. Regardless, they liked to keep themselves busy.

Yet another beautiful day in Hobbiton yielded ideal conditions for Sam and Frodo’s favorite pastime together. Frodo set up his easel outside the green door of his home. He examined his collection of elven watercolor paints his uncle Bilbo had sent him from Rivendell. Frodo had loved to paint since he was a boy, but found a new muse in his gardener.

Frodo loved the way Sam tended to the gardens of Bag End, and he repeatedly told him that he was the luckiest hobbit to have found a gardener so talented as Sam, one that treated gardening as a practice – a craft, one that is as important to be mastered as any artistic medium.

Frodo recalled the first time he noted the careful attention Sam placed in gardening, many moons ago.

_“It’s really nothing, Mr. Frodo,”_ Sam had stammered. _“I’m not sure if I would call my gardening ‘art’, if anyone would. My old gaffer has made me do this since before I could even write my own name. Besides, it’s nothing like those lovely drawings of yours”._

Frodo grinned to himself as he remembered the beet-red color Sam’s face became upon him saying those words. Frodo was extremely private about his craft and had only ever shared it with Bilbo.

_“Samwise Gamgee!”_ Frodo had laughed _. “How could you possibly know about my paintings? I only paint when I am certain no one is nearby.”_

Sam was frozen.

_“Have you been spying on me, my dear Sam?”_

Frodo taunted him, for it was the first time he ever referred to Sam as his “dear”. He loved to see Sam get flustered.

_“N-no, Mr. Frodo, I swear I wasn’t spying on you. Well I swear I never meant anything wrong by it. I just really love your drawings and I wish you would share them with your friends. You have a real gift, you know. I know that doesn’t mean much coming from me but I can tell that you have a gift. You also look very lovely when you paint, Mr. Frodo. I’m so sorry and I promise I’ll never do it ever again.”_

Sam had run away through tears from Frodo, mortified at what had occurred. Frodo chased after him, ensured him that it was okay, and together the two agreed that Frodo would share his paintings if Sam would garden while he painted.

On this warm spring afternoon, Sam was planting delphiniums, a blue variety. He hoped that they would grow to be as blue as his dear’s eyes. He tended to the rest of the garden, which included a brilliant array of hydrangeas, daisies, marigolds, and more.

While he worked, Frodo sat behind him, carefully sketching the garden. As he began to paint the flowers, he asked his gardener questions about them, hoping to gain more insight from the eyes of a flora master.

“My dear Sam,” he cooed. Sam responded with an inquisitive murmur. “What are those breathtaking flowers by your feet, dear? The violet ones?”

“These?” Sam pointed to them, and Frodo nodded his head eagerly. “Well these are asters!”

“They are lovely,” Frodo affirmed. “Why did you choose them for our garden?” Sam turned and blushed at Frodo referring to the gardens of Bag End as a shared belonging of the two.

“Asters, if I remember correctly, mean love. They also mean daintiness,” Sam said with pride. “I guess I chose them for good luck. Y’know, it doesn’t hurt to plant flowers that remind you of love and how important it is to maintain it.”

“Like a garden?” Frodo said, smiling.

Sam stopped, then walked over to Frodo, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Like a garden,” He said as he gazed into Frodo’s eyes. His attention was pulled away as he noticed Frodo’s work on the parchment canvas laying atop the easel. A lovely scene of the gardens of Bag End were depicted, capturing the essence of the love that lay within it.

“My dear, this is one of your best yet!” Sam said excitedly as he noticed every detail. “Those are the camellias! And the heliotropes! And the –”

“Slow down, Sam,” said Frodo as he playfully nudged his gardener away. “It’s hardly finished yet. I still have much work to do on it. After all, I cannot paint without the greatest artist of Bag End inspiring me at the same time.” Sam looked confused.

“Well who would you mean by that?” He asked. Frodo giggled and grabbed his hand.

“You of course, Samwise. Do not force me to explain yet again why gardening is the greatest artform known to hobbits, and that you are the chief expert on its mastery. No other gardener places as much thought into the symbolic meanings of each flower and their arrangements in the manner you do.” Sam simply smiled, and leaned into kiss him before returning to the groove they had created before.

* * *

Spring turned to summer, and summer turned to early autumn as the leaves of the oak tree began to fall and the Shire started to reveal an orange hue more and more each day. It was only September, but the air was already crisp enough to signal the start of the harvest season. It also signaled that Frodo’s birthday was nearing.

Sam loved celebrating Frodo’s birthday because it always filled his heart with warmth to see Frodo so unapologetically excited and lively. It also terrified Sam, because he never felt like any gift he could give Frodo would be enough for him. Of course, Frodo always adored every gesture from Sam, and made sure to let his Samwise know he was appreciated.

Still, Sam never felt like he had done enough for Frodo’s birthdays. He knew Frodo wasn’t one to fancy material goods, so he always created a special day for Frodo, often filled with a lot of homemade foods and ales for them to share. He would find a perfect spot underneath a tree or by the river to set up a picnic, and he would begrudgingly share his poetry at his Frodo’s request. At the end of the day, Frodo would always kiss his cheek and thank him for the perfect birthday, but still, Sam felt like it wasn’t enough.

Frodo was the most special creature in Middle-Earth to him. A rare beauty, almost elven, he thought. He was tender, soft-spoken, intelligent, all traits Sam had never seen in the hobbits around which he grew up – and Frodo gave him the most incredible gifts. Frodo knew how much Sam admired the elves, so he would arrange for gifts to be sent from Bilbo to him. Some of these included an elvish lexicon (to help with his poetry), an elven book of recipes (including some more suited to the less-exotic palettes of hobbits), and a special fertilizer (from the gardens of Rivendell itself).

It was now one week before Frodo’s birthday, and Sam was beginning to panic. He knew Frodo would enjoy yet another picnic with Sam’s reliable bread and cheese recipes, but he really wanted to surprise Frodo for once, just like Frodo would do for him.

Sam admired the watercolor landscape Frodo had painted in the garden back in the spring. It was mounted by a wooden frame near the entrance to Bag End, which Sam had hung himself.

_“I want this to be the absolute first thing our guests see when they come inside,”_ Sam recalled himself saying to Frodo. _“It’s too beautiful to be left in a stack in the office, dear. If it were up to me, none of those drawings would be stuck in those stacks. They would fill every corner, every wall, so everyone could see them.”_

An idea struck Sam. He considered it for a brief second before shaking his head in dismay. How could he possibly learn to paint? And even if he did, how could he possibly match the beauty of the creations of his beloved?

He ran his hands over some watercolor parchment he found in the office, before quickly tucking it away and scurrying out of the room. He felt lucky to have avoided the embarrassment that would have come if Frodo caught him. And he knew that Frodo would instantly catch on to his surprise – he would tease him, say something like “ _Samwise Gamgee, were you going to paint for me?”_

If he was going to do this, he needed to be sneaky. Or as sneaky as he could be.

“Where are you going, dear Sam?” asked Frodo inquisitively as Sam packed a small bag and walked towards the door.

“Just headed over to the Green Dragon, dear,” he replied, staring off into another room. He could never look Frodo in the eye when he lied, and Frodo knew this. “I heard they’ve got a new butterscotch-flavored brew, I thought I might pick up a barrel for us to share for your birthday.” Frodo crossed his arms and smiled.

“Have they now, dear Sam?” he asked with suspicion in his voice. “Can I come with you? To help you carry it?” Sam fervently shook his head.

“N-no, I’m going to meet Merry there, he’ll help me. Besides, you don’t need to help me prepare something for _your_ birthday, dear,” he said, now blushing and staring firmly at the ground. Frodo sighed and kissed his cheek.

“Alright then, I’ll be here when you get back,” he told him before walking back into the kitchen area. Sam finally exhaled the breath he had seemed to be holding for years and turned out the door. He was not going to the Green Dragon, at least not right now. But he _was_ going to see Merry. Merry was the only other hobbit he knew of that had any sort of experience with painting.

* * *

“Listen, Sam,” Merry said with concern. “I want to help you, but you have to have patience.” Sam looked offended. “Do you know why Frodo’s paintings are as detailed and breathtaking as they are?” he asked, pushing his glasses back into place. Sam stared blankly back at him. “Because Frodo has been practicing his entire life. You cannot expect to reach his level in just a few days.”

“Fine. Forget it,” said Sam, deflated, packing up his things and walking towards the door. Merry rushed back over to him and stopped him from leaving.

“That doesn’t mean that what you’ll paint is ‘bad’ by any means, and it certainly doesn’t mean that Frodo will dislike what you paint,” Merry said eagerly. “Sam, you know he’ll love anything you do for him. The fact that you even wanted to learn to paint for him… he’s never going to shut up about it!” Sam smiled as he imagined how Frodo’s face would light up when he would surprise him. He set down his things and sat on the opposite side of the table to face Merry.

“Now, I will warn you, I am not on Frodo’s level either,” said Merry. “But I have taught many little hobbits how to paint simple still lifes, is that what you want to learn?”

“Still life?” asked Sam, puzzled.

“Paintings of objects. Flowers and fruit and such. Very quiet scenes.”

“How can a picture be ‘quiet’?”

“Think about why you love Frodo’s paintings so much. Don’t they seem like you could live in them?” Merry asked. “They make me think of simple times, when your only worries are finding a peaceful place to read a book or take a nap.”

“Ah, I understand. Quiet,” said Sam. “So where do we start?”

For the next few hours, Merry showed Sam the basics of painting. Sam chose watercolors since those were the paints Frodo used. Merry warned him that painting with watercolors can be unpredictable and challenging, but Sam was determined to at least try them out. They made a few portraits of simple, monochrome objects like apples and pumpkins with moderate success on Sam’s part.

“I think I understand why you and Frodo like this stuff so much,” Sam said excitedly. He was so eager to be able to share a passion with his Frodo. “It’s a little difficult, and sometimes frustrating, but I can see the peace in all of it.” Merry smiled.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, my friend,” he responded, placing his hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam had by no means become a master painter, but Merry felt as though he was ready to paint a small floral scene for Frodo. “Have you decided which flowers you’re going to paint? I advise sticking to only one or two for right now, just so the colors don’t get too mixed.”

“Sage flowers and red chrysanthemums,” Sam said firmly, picking up the pastel to begin creating the light sketch Merry had taught him.

“How will you draw these without a reference?” Merry asked. Sam gave him a sly look.

“Trust me, I know what sage and chrysanthemums look like. I have spent my whole life staring at them in gardens,” He said, almost lecturing Merry, who responded with a laugh.

“Okay, I won’t question you!” He said cheerfully. “Why did you choose sage and chr…”

“Chrysanthemums.”

“Yes. Why did you choose sage and chrysanthemums?”

“That’s private.” Sam was dead serious. “Frodo doesn’t have much of a private life these days, it’s the least I can do for him to let the meaning of the flowers be kept between the two of us.” Merry smiled and nodded his head.

“Alright then, it’s none of my business,” he said, secretly scribbling the names of the flowers onto his hand. He was definitely going to track down a language of flowers guide later and make fun of Sam and Frodo with Pippin.

Sam continued to paint, with Merry giving him little pieces of advice and detail here and there. After it was done drying, Merry gave him a simple wooden frame to keep it in. Sam looked doubtful.

“You really think Frodo would want to hang this?” He asked with a tremble in his voice.

“Of course he will!” Merry said with delight. “Sam, you have been an excellent student, and this painting is quite good for a beginner. Frodo is going to love it.” Sam smiled. He walked towards the door but suddenly whipped around.

“Merry, I’m so sorry to ask more of you, but will you walk to the Green Dragon with me and help me carry a barrel of ale back to Bag End? That’s where Frodo thinks I’ve been all day.”

“You lied to Frodo?” Merry asked with concern. Sam sighed.

“Yes, but there’s no way he doesn’t know. I’m a horrible liar. He knows I’m up to somethin’ for his birthday anyways. I can at least make my lie sort of true.” Merry put on his coat and followed him out the door.

“Well, I’ll take any excuse to grab an ale.”

* * *

A week had passed and it was now Frodo’s birthday. Hobbiton always threw a big party for Frodo, like they used to do for Bilbo, but Frodo requested it be the day after his actual birthday, so he could spend time with Sam.

As far as Frodo knew, all Sam had planned was his typical picnic and poetry reading right before dusk. And Sam was determined to not let Frodo have any idea that anything different was happening, or at least as much as he could. Sam had prepared a full dinner for Frodo, baked him a cake, and had already set the barrel out on the hill. The two walked hand in hand to the blanket Sam had laid out and sat down.

Frodo had a suspicious but excited look across his face.

“Tell me, my dear Sam,” he cooed. “What is in store for us this evening?” He moved nearer to Sam and held his face in his hands.

“Nothin’ different, Frodo, I’ve told you many times now,” Sam said, avoiding eye contact yet again. Frodo kissed his forehead, and then his cheek.

“My dear Sam, you needn’t lie to me anymore. I can read you better than any book. Tell me, what is it? My birthday is almost over as it is.” Sam exhaled, and finally met Frodo’s gaze. He truly felt like he could drown in Frodo’s eyes, the way they pierced his soul with a single glance. He pulled his bag around, and Frodo sat cross-legged in front of him, beaming with anticipation.

“I knew you could never keep a secret from me, Samwise Gamgee,” chimed Frodo, sneaking a quick kiss to Sam’s cheek just to make him blush even more. Sam revealed a package wrapped in brown paper with a twine bow and handed it to Frodo. Frodo’s sly grin turned to a face of concern.

“Sam…” he whispered as he ran his fingers over the package. “What is this?”

“Just open it,” Sam whispered back as he gave Frodo a kiss on his cheek and tucked a lock of hair behind his ears. Frodo carefully unwrapped the bow and the paper like it was a sacred object. Sam hadn’t seen this kind of wonder on Frodo’s face since they went to Lorien.

Frodo emitted a soft gasp as he held the small portrait in his hands. It showed five delicate flowers, embellished by a small “Sam” scribbled with ink in the bottom right corner. He seemed to be frozen, and Sam’s heart dropped. Did he not like it? How could Sam ever think this was a good idea, of course Frodo wouldn’t like it. He hid his face in his hands.

“Frodo, I –” he began, before he was abruptly cut off.

“Sam, did you paint this?” He asked, staring at it before lifting his eyes to see Sam’s red face.

“Yes, I did, I know it’s not very much but you always give me the most thoughtful gifts on my birthday and I always do the same thing and I know you always say that you love it but I can’t shake the feeling that it’s not enough for you and I’m not enough for you, so I asked Merry to teach me how to paint since you love it so much and I wanted to surprise you,” Sam said without taking a single breath. Frodo placed the picture at his side and grabbed Sam’s face again, pulling him in for a tender kiss. As they pulled away, Sam noticed tears streaming down Frodo’s face.

“My dear, why are you crying?” Sam asked, panicked. He wiped the tears from Frodo’s face and held it with his tough hands. Frodo sniffed, and opened his eyes to look at Sam again.

“Sam, you have no idea what this means to me,” Frodo said as he pulled Sam’s hands from his face and intertwined them with his own. “I am already the luckiest hobbit in the Shire to be in your care, but this is far beyond anything I could ever ask for… No one has ever even considered to do something like this for me. Sam, you already gave me a perfect birthday, like you do every year, you did not need to do any more than you already have.”

“Yes, I did,” Sam responded sweetly, confident again. He kissed one of Frodo’s hands. “Do you like it?” Frodo stared at him with care.

“My dear Sam, it’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

“Oh Frodo, you don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do,” Frodo replied, wiping his tears. He giggled. “Tell me, Sam, what are these flowers you have chosen?”

“Well, these purple ones are sage flowers,” Sam said as he traced them with his fingers. “And these red ones are chrysanthemums.”

“What do they mean?”

“I’m pretty sure sage flowers are symbolic of wisdom,” Sam explained. “Somethin’ to do with eternal knowledge and grace. Y’know, elven stuff.”

“You and your elves,” Frodo playfully rolled his eyes. “And the chr…”

“Chrysanthemums?”

“Yes, the chrysanthemums.”

“ _Le ni meleth._ ”

Frodo’s face lit up even more.

“Samwise, did you also learn to speak elvish for me?” Sam swiftly interrupted him.

“No, sorry about that,” he said with disappointment. “But I remember seeing it in the elvish book you gave me. Well, it may not be a perfect translation. Did you understand it?” Frodo blushed now.

“I love you too, Sam.”

They spent the rest of Frodo’s birthday enjoying their picnic and sharing poetry, as promised. They couldn’t stay out too late as a large day of festivities followed. At the end of the night, they walked hand in hand back to Bag End, where Frodo mounted his gift on the wall right beneath his own painting.

“See, Sam?” Frodo asked as he wrapped his arms around his beloved gardener. “I knew you were an artist.”


End file.
